Those Damn Blue Eyes

…

Captain John Grant becomes fascinated with his young survivor, Kate Shepard, after she has an interesting reaction to learning of her family's deaths. Shepard/Grant (OC), just after Mindoir attack.

…

Disclaimer: This author in no way profits from the writing of this story. All characters, dialogue, or other referenced material from the Mass Effect trilogy belongs to Bioware.

…

"Well, she's got a hell of a right hook." I rubbed my left cheekbone, still burning from her hit. It wasn't going to be fun to explain this one to my crew. Dr. Felding couldn't hide her smirk.

"A lot of power for such a little thing," she mused. "I'm sorry I missed it!" She laughed as she went to grab a cold pack to calm the swelling on my already bruised cheek.

The girl in question was unconscious on one of the sick bay beds, where I had placed her only moments ago. Felding handed the cold pack to me and turned to the girl. "What exactly happened?"

"As soon as I told her what the situation was, she flew out of the chair and punched me, and then, before I could even react, she was on the floor unconscious," I explained.

The doctor nodded. "Fight or flight adrenaline rush. She's got low blood sugar too. I'm not surprised she passed out. She's got a bump on the head from that fall, but it doesn't look serious. She'll be alright once we feed her something," Felding confirmed.

She eyed me. "When she wakes up, she'll probably attack you again."

I looked down at the girl. Felding was probably right. "I'll be prepared for it this time," I assured.

"Whatever you say, Captain." Her eyes were sparkling—I'm pretty sure she wanted to see me get punched again. Felding was a bit of a sadist.

I sat next to the bed and waited. A minute or two later, after the food tray was delivered, she began to stir. Surprisingly, when her eyes opened, she didn't make a move. "Sorry," she said, looking at my bruised cheek. In spite of her apology, her eyes were still accusing.

I couldn't be angry. I probably would have acted the same way. Besides, my guilt complex was getting to me. I knew it wasn't our fault—we were only a patrol, not a strike team expecting to fight several ships of slavers—but I couldn't help feeling responsible. "Don't worry about it," I told her, bringing the tray of food over. "You need to eat something." The chef, hearing about our passenger's situation, had whipped up the most enticing meal he could.

She nodded, pushing herself into a sitting position. Without another word, she took the tray and began to eat, ignoring my presence entirely.

I observed her. She was definitely unique. I'd never been punched by a sixteen-year-old before, but I never would have expected that kind of strength from a young girl like her. But even before that I had known she was different—she had stood out from the moment I saw her. She'd been sitting in that chair outside the med bay, slouching in the way that only a moody teenager can, when I saw her turn, those deep blue eyes staring at me. Blue eyes on their own were unusual these days, but combined with red hair… well, it was certainly unexpected.

I tried not to let myself think of her as beautiful—she was a minor under my care. But her odd beauty couldn't be denied, and I wasn't the only one who couldn't stop looking. She seemed completely unaware of her status as a genetic rarity, or even how unusual it was to be a civilian passenger on an Alliance ship.

I could tell, from the very first, that she was going to be trouble.

…

Of course, I had more to do than spend time with our only survivor. We had Batarian slavers to contend with.

There were just too many of them. Mindoir wasn't a large colony, but we saw ship after ship taking the colonists, and we couldn't even get near them. Communications were blocked, and we had been the only patrol in the area. The Alliance would know that there was a problem before long, but we were certain that wouldn't be fast enough.

They'd managed to damage our ship, leaving us unable to go get the help we so desperately needed. We had to choose whether to make repairs and hope it wasn't too late, or try to save the colonists ourselves. The answer was obvious to all of us.

My men who had tried to infiltrate were mostly killed, and those that came back were traumatized, having witnessed unspeakable horrors of torture and mutilation. In our determination, we tried to go in a second time, but we were so far outnumbered that it didn't matter.

There was nothing we could do.

At dawn, the ships flew away as we watched, powerless, stranded on a destroyed colony.

…

"I want to come with you." Those blue eyes were so adamant that I had trouble refusing her demand.

"It's not safe. You're under my protection, and I'm responsible for any harm that comes to you," I told her. "I'm sorry. I can't let you go."

She turned away, trying to hide the tears filling her eyes. "I just want to see my home one more time."

I sighed. "You don't want to see it like this." I knew I was right, but this was paining me nonetheless. I waited for some sign from her, some acknowledgement of my response.

After a long moment, she turned to me, the tears now gone. "I hate you." I will never forget the look in her eyes or the venom in her voice.

Before I could respond, she was gone, running to her makeshift quarters. I shook my head, angry at myself for how badly I'd wanted to give in.

…

The small team I'd assembled entered the settlement quietly. It was eerie to see the once-bustling colony so silent. We entered the homes, hoping to find any survivors, but all we found were corpses. The mutilation was unbearable to see, and I could sense my team's feelings of revulsion and shock. I tried to steel myself against it, knowing that I had to be strong for my crew. I knew all they wanted to do was return to the ship and get off this God-forsaken planet, but we had a job to do.

We found no remaining slavers and no survivors. Our trip to the colony had been fruitless—all we had now were memories of the horrors we'd seen. But on our way back, I noticed a movement near one of the dwellings. I told my men to go on without me while I went to investigate.

As I approached the doorway I saw her, unaware of my presence. She stooped over to pick something up—a small stuffed monkey. She stared at it as if it were a ghost.

"I told you not to leave the ship." As she heard me, she moved to run. I was faster.

I grabbed her by the arm, gripping it tightly as she struggled. I whipped her around to face me, those damn blue eyes staring at me accusingly, as if I was responsible for the murder of her family.

I stared right back, anger rising up in me. "While you're on my ship, you will never disobey my orders again."

She wouldn't be intimidated. "Your ship?" she scoffed, and it was the first time I realized she hadn't known.

"Yes," I told her, meeting her eyes with as much force as I could muster. "I'm the captain of this vessel. And you will remember that."

She stared, refusing to back down from a challenge. But determination wasn't the only thing I saw in her eyes.

I immediately turned away. "We're going back to the ship." She tried to shake my hand off her arm, glaring at me when I wouldn't let her go.

I didn't trust her on her own. Of course, I didn't trust myself with her either. Everything that happened, I blamed on those damn blue eyes.

…